


Wasted Souls ripped of Innocence

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: Jeremiah knows he needs to check on Jerome. He can't. Not yet. It's all too much, his head his pounding, his stomach twisting, he doesn't know where his glasses are and it hurts. Jerome is crying and it hurts.





	Wasted Souls ripped of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Can I get a "WE HATE ZACHARY TRUMBLE"?
> 
> Yeah. Not much to say about this one. I'm having one of those moods again. Apologies, my lovelies. 💙
> 
> On a side note, I have no idea what kinds of foods get served in a circus orrr what exactly Zach's wagon was supposed to look like. I imagined it's basically a kitchen on wheels, where he cooks and stores all of the good shit.

"This is a bad idea", Jeremiah whispers, grasping his brother's shirt a little tighter from where's he's crouching behind him. Jerome has his shoulder pressed against the back of the chuck wagon, checking around the corner, waiting for Uncle Zack to leave for a cigarette break. "You say that about all my ideas", the older twin whispers back and Jeremiah gulps. "That's because they're _all_ bad ideas."

Jerome snickers at that. "C'mon, be fun for once, Miah. The fat fart won't even know." "But what if he finds us? He'll kill you, Jerome."

Jeremiah's heart stings a little when he says those words. It's always Jerome who gets blamed, never Jeremiah. The older twin snorts. "Keep that attitude and he'll find us for sure. Ease up, baby brother." "Stop calling me that, we're twins!" "I'm older by thirteen minutes, so shut up. He's coming."

Jeremiah sucks in a breath and clings a little tighter to Jerome when he hears the stairs leading out of the wagon creak. He hears Uncle Zack's relieved groan and knows he's walking towards the Lloyd's trailer to have his smoke. "Okay, Miah, _now."_

Jerome darts from their hiding place and Jeremiah tries to keep up. They sneak up the stairs into the wagon. Jerome inhales deeply, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture, a smirk on his face. "Take it in, baby bro. The asshat may be as dumb they come, but he can definitely cook."

Jeremiah does take it in and feels his mouth water. The smells are incredible, soup, grilled chicken, fresh bread and several herbs Jeremiah has no idea where their uncle gets from. They smell too clean, to high-quality for a circus cook to afford.

Jeremiah can't ponder for long because Jerome grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a shelf. "Up there. That's where he keeps the cookies." Jerome crouches down. "Get on my shoulders."

Jeremiah gulps, his stomach churning. "I...I really think we shouldn't -!" "We've come this far, we gotta finish what we started. Come on, I'm too short to reach up there by myself and you're lighter than me." "Jerome, don't you think -!" _"Get on my shoulders, Jeremiah."_

There it is. The tone of voice that turns Jeremiah into his brother's puppet. Cold, unrelenting, dangerous. It's the same tone that sends him to the darkness of the moldy wardrobe.

Jeremiah inhales deeply and tries to avoid Jerome's gaze _(the shadow will be there)_ as he climbs on his shoulders. "Good. Hang on tight, baby bro." His tone is audibly softer now and it makes Jeremiah cringe internally. He loves his brother so much. But sometimes he _hates_ that he does.

Jerome slowly gets to his feet and Jeremiah reaches up, stretching as far as he can. "Which one?", he asks in a monotone voice. "Blue lid", Jerome answers and Jeremiah reaches for that one. "Little more to the left."

They sway a little and Jeremiah grabs onto the shelf, his heart beating hard and fast. "Get on with it, Miah. He'll be back soon", Jerome hisses and the younger twin closes his eyes, taking a deep breath when he stretches his arm out again. His fingertips graze the cookie jar. "Almost, a little mo-!"

_"JEROOOME!"_

Jeremiah's heart stops and he knows Jerome's does too. He feels his brother swirl around and Jeremiah realizes too late that he's falling. He hits the floor hard, his glasses knocked from his nose, his head connecting and he sees stars, the throbbing behind his eye making him fear it might pop out.

Blindly, he feels the floor for his glasses, his stomach doing a flip and he holds in the urge to vomit. _Concussion_ runs through Jeremiah's mind but the thought is pushed back by the sound of Jerome's toe-curling scream and Uncle Zack's harsh words. "You little shit think you can steal from me?! And use your brother for it too? Selfish, evil little bastard, I'll show ya what happens!"

Jeremiah keeps his head down. He wouldn't be able to see anyway, he tells himself but the truth is, he doesn't _want_ to look. Jerome is biting back sobs, Jeremiah can tell by his ragged breathing and it makes the younger twin's heart ache. "Ya like my food so much, so you can be a part of it now, nephew", Uncle Zack snarls and Jeremiah thinks he really might throw up. He doesn't know for sure but he can imagine what Uncle Zack is doing to Jerome. "My sister should never have kept you. You were a fucking _mistake."_

Jerome is screaming again now. Jeremiah has given up on looking for his glasses and is now curled up into a ball on the floor, covering his ears and shaking as tears run down his cheeks. _I'm sorry, Jerome,_ he thinks over and over, hoping that Jerome can somehow hear it in his own mind, _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

He hears something - or someone - tumble to the floor. His brother's whimpers are like daggers boring through Jeremiah's tiny heart. "Hope that'll teach ya. Fucking waste of space."

The stairs of the wagon creak again and then there's silence, except for the twins' own unsteady breathing and crying. Jeremiah knows he needs to check on Jerome. He can't. Not yet. It's all too much, his head his pounding, his stomach twisting, he doesn't know where his glasses are and it _hurts._ Jerome is crying and it _hurts._

Jeremiah doesn't know how much time passes until he finally uncurls from his position on the floor. He sits up as slowly and carefully as he can, blinking and taking a deep breath to calm his stomach. He spots his glasses a few inches from where he's propped up on his right hand and takes them, putting them back on his nose. "Jerome", he croaks immediately and looks up, sucking in a breath at the sight of his twin.

He's on the floor, back leaning against the wall and only seems to be half-conscious. He's pale and his clothes are soaked with sweat. Jeremiah's gaze falls on his hand.

It's dark red and covered in blisters almost as large as the hand itself. Jeremiah feels his eyes water and crawls over to Jerome. "We need to...", he wants to say but that's when he can't hold it in anymore, quickly turning away from his brother and emptying his stomach into the garbage bin in the corner of the wagon. The image of Jerome's hand has burnt itself into his memory.

Burnt. _Cooked._

The younger twin collapses back on the floor, shaking all over. His throat is sore and the taste in his mouth is bitter. "We...need to...take...care of...your...hand..!", he croaks, closing his eyes. He doesn't think it's a concussion anymore, the headache has already subsided a little. And he knows very well why he threw up.

"Fuck...", Jerome suddenly whispers, his voice too feeble, too meek. Jeremiah wants to turn around to look at him but his body won't move. "He fucking...boiled it...the piece of..!"

He's starting to giggle and Jeremiah wants to curl into a ball again. "Smells...delicious...don't ya think...baby bro?", Jerome presses out between giggles. "Mmmh...my new...favorite ingredient..!"

"Stop", Jeremiah begs, finally managing to turn around. Jerome's head has lolled to the side from where's he's rested it against the wall and he's wearing a crooked grin, staring at Jeremiah. The younger twin shudders when he spots the familiar shadow in his eyes.

The older twin lifts the abused hand to his face to inspect it and his grin widens. "HA! Almost...wanna take a bite!"

Jerome's laughing now, loud and bright and manic. Jeremiah feels the fear settling in his stomach but more so, he feels the painful clench of his heart. They're eight. They're eight years old and he's watching his brother decay. He's a wasted soul with a broken mind and if he's ever possessed something close to innocence, it's long gone.

Jeremiah's body aches but he manages to crawl over to Jerome. He straddles him and collapses against his chest, rests his ear over Jerome's heart. It's beating too fast and Jeremiah takes his twin's good hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

Jerome is still laughing. But by the way his body trembles, Jeremiah can tell that there are tears running down his cheeks and they are not tears of laughter. Jerome's arm wraps around him, careful not to graze his hand against Jeremiah's shoulder. "You weren't fast enough, Miah!", he cackles and the younger twin buries his head in Jerome's chest. "I know. I'm so sorry", he whispers, his voice muffled by Jerome's chest.

He feels Jerome's face in his hair, nuzzling. "We'll deal with that later", he promises, voice dripping with malice but there's something else there too, a tone that is reserved for Jeremiah only. "Love ya, baby brooo ~", Jerome sings and while it may sound mocking to anyone else, Jeremiah knows it's genuine. 

He knows the wardrobe is waiting for him. He knows he deserves it. But he also knows that Jerome is all he has. And Jeremiah is all that Jerome has. Jerome and Jeremiah, Jeremiah and Jerome. Only them. No one else.

"I love you too, Jerome", the younger twin whispers, exhaling slowly when Jerome's lips press against his forehead.

He can deal with the wardrobe, he can deal with the fear, the pain. As long as Jerome stays with him, he can deal with all of that.

It takes Jeremiah another two years before he realizes that he can't.


End file.
